


Hate

by GhostPatrol



Category: Smosh, Smosh Games
Genre: A nice kitchen lady, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Decapitation, It's really just lcorn centric, Minor Character Death, Those are just there because I needed his parents/a staff member, implied emotional abuse, it's not graphic but it's there, royals au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 11:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostPatrol/pseuds/GhostPatrol
Summary: "Tbh whenever i imagine Lasercorns dad in the royalty AU it's always like Henry the eighth and i can't help but imagine Lasercorn being forced at age seven to see his mother beheaded because of "treason" and then a month later being forced to accept a new step-mother.— Anonymous""Y I K E S LASERCORN BB NO— Smosh-Stuff"...>:3(Or, The one where Prince David has a really shit dad and learns what hatred is.)





	Hate

Hatred is a complex emotion.

It is one that David has never really felt before, he supposes. He has felt hurt, upset, even furious towards others- but he has never  _hated_. His father, on the other hand, hated many things.

The King hated dancing, and parades, and noisy play. He hated brightly colored artwork, he hated the sweet smell of flowers, and he hated when people did not do as he said. As for people; he hated people almost at a default.

David knew that his father hated, but he never understood it at first. Never put a word to it, and never knew what it felt like. He was expected to hate the same things as his father, he understood that. But how could he if he didn’t know how?

It was confusing to say the least, for a child.

David remembered the first time he had sought out the answer to his questions. He had been in the kitchen, watching one of the chefs, Miss Bodiou, work. Miss Bodiou was a kind woman, and didn’t mind when David stuck his nose in the kitchen. He was remarkably polite, and would sit obediently to the side while she worked and make pleasant talk. He occasionally offered to help, but Miss Bodiou always refused. She wasn’t dim; she knew full and well what would happen if a guard or, heavens forbid, the king  _himself_ , saw David working with her in the kitchen. Her head would be in a basket faster than you could say “guillotine”.

So David only sat quietly now, observing her as she kneaded dough, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“Miss Bodiou?” David asked finally, as she finished kneading and began to roll out the dough evenly across the floured table, “Can I ask you something?”

Miss Bodiou didn’t look up from her work, but hummed amicably in response.

“Earlier today, father…” David mulled over his words, “He told me that the dog I found the other day- the brown one, with the spots?- he told me that I- I had to kill it.”

Now, Miss Bodiou looked up. Her expression was not one of surprise; how could she be surprised at this point? But it held concern, sadness, and the dull heat of something David couldn’t quite place. Something strong, and something cruel. It seemed out of place in the kind chef’s warm, dark eyes.

“Why did he say that, miss?” David continued, “I couldn’t kill it, I let it go instead, and father got mad at me. Why?”

Miss Bodiou remained silent for a bit, then sighed and closed her eyes, letting her head fall forwards so she was staring at her work again instead. She shook her head slightly as she straightened and began to work, but slower now, more distracted.

“David…” She said after several dragging seconds of quiet, “David, your father…” Seeming frustrated with her own words, and looked up again, at David- studying, maybe. And then she looked around a bit, as if to make sure no one was listening, before leaning against her work table and closing her eyes.

“Your father is a hateful man. Alright? Don’t listen to him when he tells you about murder, or weakness. He’s just… hateful.”

David stared at her, confused.

“Miss Bodiou,” He asked persistently, “What makes my father hateful?”

Miss Bodiou opened her eyes, finally surprised by that.

“What makes him hateful…?” She repeated, more to herself. She looked at David, pursed her lips, and sighed again.

“Hate is an evil feeling.” She told him, “It’s never a good one to have. And it’s something to avoid. Just be kind to others, alright, David? Your father’s hate is not yours. His actions may be your burden, but they are not your path- remember that.”

“But, miss, you didn’t-” David tried to point out the dismissal of his question, but Miss Bodiou ignored that.

“Alright, I’ve got to get these in the oven now- why don’t you go see Mister Kerrian in the garden, now? Out you go!”

And that was the end of that.

Now, years later, standing in biting winter air, shaking but not from cold, dread tearing at his insides while weighing him down like lead shoes, David couldn’t stop thinking.

_Your father is a hateful man, David_

The King is crying out into the crowd, speaking of crime and punishment, and she’s crying but silent and stony faced towards the world-

_Afternoon sunlight, sitting on her lap, nursery rhymes ringing throughout the calm air, their sweetness matching that of the flowers’ smell, father hated the sweet smell of flowers_

The crowd was screaming, hollering, and the noise falls on his muffled ears, he stands rigid, she looks to the side, the King is moving, she’s smiling, why is she smiling how can she be smiling-

_The crackle of the fire, the noisy howl of winter winds behind frosted windows, father hated noise- Father is yelling, mother is yelling, their voices drip venom and certainty, certainty that she hates him, certainty that he hates her, he hates so much, he’s a hateful man, David-_

The heavy footsteps of the executioner send jolting vibrations through the wooden platform. They’re in town square, of course they would be, it’s a show isn’t it? A grand display, yes, this is public entertainment, a joyous spectacle for the masses, come one, come all, to see mother’s blood bathe the stage-

_I love you David, you know I do- out of everything in this world, you are the only thing I lived for, but you have so much more than I ever had, you know that David, please don’t hate me for this- don’t hate me, don’t hate you don’t have to hate your father’s hate is not yours-_

The crowd is chanting, their words are gibberish, nonsense, they mean nothing now, does anything mean anything now? Yes, her lips are moving, soundlessly, but mouthing something, something he can’t make out, not because she lacks clarity but because he does, nothing is clear, none of this is adding up-

_It’s treason, David, the worst crime someone can commit. She’s a liar and a whore, David, she doesn’t deserve your pity or love. She’s getting what’s coming to her, that’s for sure, getting what she deserves, after all these years she’s getting what she deserves, what she deserves-_

The lever is pulling, metal is scraping,

_I want you to close your eyes when it happens, David, I don’t want you to see, not doing as she says, not doing as he says father hates it when people don’t do as he says-_

Crying, screaming, his, maybe, lost in others’, joy and anguish and raw force of emotions unspecific-

_He’s a hateful man David, hatred is an evil feeling, it’s never a good one to have, why does he hate why does he hate her why-_

Red, red is going to spring forth in milliseconds, he knows it, color spread across the stage, going out with a bang of color-

_Father hated colorful artwork, he hated color, her clothes were so colorful, why does he hate her why-_

The metal reaches pale flesh and it’s happening, it’s happening,

_Why does he hate her why does he hate me why does he hate why does he hate why why why why WHY-_

**_SHING_ **

And a thud. And it was over. And reality snapped back into clarity. And David felt numb.

It’s three weeks. Three weeks, he counts the days. Three weeks without her. Three weeks emptiness. Three weeks of trying to forget the look on her face. Three of trying to hate him. Three weeks until the new one enters the castle doors.

“This is your new mother, David.” Father tells him.

She looks dull. Her clothes are drab colors. She smells of acrid smoke. Her voice is sour. Her eyes are dull.

David looks at her. David looks at his father. And now, now,  _now_. Now.

David feels hate.


End file.
